


Cooking 101

by desperationandgin



Series: Market Price (The Companion Pieces) [6]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, OR CAN SHE, claire canna cook to save her life, fluffy fluff, market price
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: Claire tries to cook and something unexpected happens as a result.





	Cooking 101

“I’m going to burn our apartment down.” 

“If ye burn the Christmas pudding, Maggie will have a meltdown on account of it being her favorite.”

Claire groans a little. “No pressure then, right?” She takes a deep breath and with Jamie near enough to save her life should all hell break loose, she pours the alcohol ( _rum, specifically_ ) over the dessert before setting the entire thing on fire. For three heartbeats she’s minorly afraid, but then the flames die off and all they’re left with is a sweet sugar smell and she exhales in relief.

“There, see? When it’s time to serve it and set it on fire, ye probably willna burn down all of Lallybroch,” he teases. Claire’d been determined to contribute something for her second Christmas with Jamie’s family, and of course, she’d picked one of the fussiest desserts: a dish cooked weeks in advance that needs to be set on fire before serving. He’d had his doubts, considering Claire nearly smoked them out with burnt lamb on their first date.

Now, she looks mildly impressed with herself and steps back to appraise her accomplishment. “Is it supposed to be that...dark?” she asks, tilting her head to one side as she studies it.

“Aye, ye’ve done it exactly right,” Jamie promises, tugging her close by the hip and kissing her temple. “And ‘tis only a test run. If we need to change anything after we taste it, there’s still time.” That’s why they’re making Christmas pudding in the middle of June. “C’mon,” Jamie says as he tugs at her hand. “Help me wi’ finishing our actual dinner.” He’s been trying to teach her a few things, always keeping it as casual as possible, never instructing, just _showing_. He’s realized there’s a subtle ( _yet crucial_ ) difference. ‘Instructing’ means critiquing her work. ‘Showing’ means helping and guiding, but never telling her she’s doing anything wrong.

At the kitchen counter, he stands behind her, picking up a recently sharpened knife and holding it, letting her put one hand around his as Jamie’s chin rests on her shoulder. “Remember how to hold it so ye dinna chop off a finger?”

Claire nods; all this time she thought holding a knife was as basic a task as a person could do. As it turned out, there was an entire stance to it. “Thumb on the inside of the handle, three finger grip _under_ the handle.”

Together, they slice a tomato and once there are four perfect pieces, Jamie can’t quite help himself, ducking his head to kiss her neck. “First the pudding now the tomato, what else can ye do?”

“Oh, I might have a surprise for you,” she says with a grin fit for the cat that ate the canary. Sauntering to the oven, she pulls out a baking sheet pan with perfectly crisped bacon and by the way she grabs the pan with her bare hands, she’d cooked long before he’d come home from work on her day off.

“Sassenach, this might be more than I can take,” Jamie admits as he walks forward to inspect each slice. “Ye wee sneak. Ye remembered everything I showed ye, then?”

“Not a single curl of smoke.”

“I’ve taught ye perfect bacon and perfect scrambled eggs, then ye go and make a Christmas dessert on yer own. Now I think I have to ask ye to marry me.”

“I haven’t toasted the bread yet,” she says with a roll of her eyes, moving to do just that when his hand snags her by the wrist. “There’s still a chance I’ll ruin supper.”

“That’s how ye react to a man proposin’ marriage?”

Claire stares up at him, and the _second_ she realizes he’s serious, her eyes widen as her mouth falls open. “You were serious?”

Jamie turns a magnificent shade of pink all the way to the tips of his ears. “I wasna planning on asking ye this way, I had a whole thing wi’ the farm and a horse ride back to that field of heather, but…” He trails off, kissing her forehead softly before walking to their bedroom and leaving her alone for a moment. When he returns, it’s with a black box in his hand.

Feeling her heart thud in shock, she moves to brace herself, thinking she’s on the edge of the counter when truly, her palm catches the end of the sheet pan and sends the bacon crashing to the floor all while Jamie’s holding a ring out to her. Helpless to do anything but watch as the main part of their BLT dinner falls to the floor, both of her hands cover her mouth. They stare, Jamie’s hands falling to his sides as they look at the bacon, and then one another.

She laughs. It’s a snort, very undignified, but she begins to giggle from there and can’t control herself. It spreads and she can hear Jamie as she begins to cry, not making any sound at all on account of the uncontrollable laughter making her shoulders shake.

Reaching out, Jamie pulls her into his arms and presses his lips firmly to her forehead even if said lips are curved in a smile. “What am I to do wi’ ye lass?” he asks fondly.

Just as soon as she’s composed herself, she wipes at her cheeks and clears her throat. “Are you sure you want to marry a semi-disaster in the kitchen?”

“Full-blown, and aye. Aye, I do. Ye ken why?” he asks, closing the small distance between them in order to kiss her properly.

“Why?” Which she only asks after she’s kissed him back.

Taking the ring now; simple, flat so that it won’t snag on surgical gloves, he slides it onto her left hand before kissing her knuckles. “Because I could cook every meal for ye from now to the end of time and ken I’ve made ye happy. Ye’ve never asked me to do it, never expected it. But every time, all ye have to do is take a bite and I ken ye love me.”

“I do love you. For a lot more than your cooking, I hope you know.”

“I was hoping,” he teases, kissing the tip of her nose. “So. Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Looping her arms around his neck, she lets her nose graze the side of his. 

“Aye. I think I just might.”


End file.
